


Stale Sheets

by writelove



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec is alone and home isn't home anymore, Angst, M/M, Magnus is, yo fuck 2x18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 03:03:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writelove/pseuds/writelove
Summary: Alec was so used to living with Magnus.Now everything is all wrong.





	Stale Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in ten minutes because I am overcome with emotion.  
> Pls don't hate me for it.   
> Pls leave comments to feed my attention needing soul.

He stands in the middle of the Institute with tears rolling down his face, his hands had been shaking since Magnus released his grip on them, and he could swear his heart had shattered into pieces that were then trying to rip themselves from his body. 

“I love you, too…” He had said, but even as the words came out, Alec could sense the inevitable “but”.

He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there when Isabelle comes looking for him. For a moment, he worries that she’s able to see the way his insides – his soul – seeps out of every crevice in his body, leaving him hollow. Though she gives no indication that is what she sees, he can see the pity radiating from her eyes. 

“Alec,” She starts tenderly. 

“I just need to lie down, I think,” He excuses himself. 

His room is unfamiliar, he notes. The same one he had inhabited for twenty years of his life, and yet he feels like a stranger standing in it. When exactly did he paint the walls blue? Who were the unsmiling strangers staring back at him in all his photos? Why did that window let in so much goddamn light, when all he wants is the forgiving darkness of nightfall? 

He yanks the blinds shut and climbs into a bed that is slightly too short for his long frame. He lies with the comforter over his head until the lack of oxygen suffocates him and he has to return to his still dimly lit room. The sheets smell like stale laundry detergent. He recalls washing them a couple months ago, but he knows he hasn’t slept in them since; he’s been at Magnus’ instead. 

At Magnus’ the room was always dark if he needed it to be. At Magnus’ the bed was long enough to accommodate his ever-lengthening legs. At Magnus’ he was only ever greeted his boyfriend’s warm arms and loving smile to match. He remembers the silky gold sheets and the bed just big enough for the two of them to hold each other and the way the plush rug cushioned the soles of his feet, even as he stood there sulking while Maryse yipped at him to get back to the Institute. He remembers the way he was before Magnus, always following the rules, wanting to do what was best for the Shadowhunters, obeying his mother's beck and call. That was the son she always thought could be a leader, he wondered if Jace had done the right thing but relinquishing his position to him. 

But Magnus had taught him what it was to be in love - really and truly in love, not in the way he'd been infatuated with Jace. With Magnus, he thought they could still water, erupt volcanoes, bridge the divide between Shadowhunters and Downworlders - he still thinks they can, but his stomach knots as he worries that Magnus will never see the same future again. 

He thinks briefly that he abandoned his heart at Magnus’ apartment but soon realizes that he can’t make a quick pit stop on his way to the bakery to pick up the remains of himself. Those lie with Magnus himself. All Alec has are stale sheets and an Institute of Shadowhunters waiting for him to be a good leader. He’s not sure he really can be.


End file.
